


The Hidden Train Journey

by verystrangedreams



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Dream Journal, Gen, Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 11:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16639634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verystrangedreams/pseuds/verystrangedreams
Summary: Based on a dream I had in 2016.  I was fortunate to have rememebered a lot of details after waking up, so I made notes and was able to write up the story in full.





	The Hidden Train Journey

**Author's Note:**

> I believe in licensing that respects your personal rights and freedoms, so I have licensed this work under the Creative Commons "CC BY-SA 4.0" license. Please show the same respect to me by following the conditions of the license I have chosen: _You are permitted to create and distribute derivative works, but only under the same or a compatible license._

It all started when I walked into the building. I immediately came  
across two Mexicans in the narrow stairwell. One shot the other in the  
head, and blood spattered the light-blue concrete wall.

I found myself mildly concerned about the mess, and I figured I should  
go find the manager of the building in order to get it cleaned up. Down  
the stairs I went, which led to a wide hallway with many doors on each  
side. As I walked along, I glanced at the names on each door. I came  
across one door which was named "Hidden".

Curiosity took hold of me, and I walked up to the door and tried the  
handle. It was unlocked. I opened the door, and I was surprised what I  
found. Beyond the doorway was a huge dark area. The floor, walls and  
high ceiling were all a plain greyish concrete. Far down at the other  
end, there was a wide gap in the floor, running from one side of the  
space to the other.

I began walking toward the far end of this vast room, and I saw that the  
gap had a train track laying in it. On both sides, the track led out an  
opening into what appeared to be the outdoors. This was quite  
impossible, as this was a basement room, and there should not have been  
sunlight coming through these openings.

Then I began to hear a steady thunder, that most unmistakably of an  
approaching locomotive. The sound was faint at first, then it grew  
louder. Within minutes, the locomotive was entering the place from the  
left side, running along the track as I looked on. I realized that this  
place was similar to a platform for boarding a train, except that this  
locomotive pulled no cars behind it. It did not stop either.

As the locomotive began to exit the room on the far right side, I felt a  
strange compulsion to board it. There was a catwalk along the side of  
the locomotive at about the same height of the platform, and I knew that  
I could grab onto the rails and jump onto it.

But the locomotive was gone, and I was left again standing there,  
wondering what this was all about. The sound of the locomotive quieted  
as it rolled into the distance. However the urge to board that  
locomotive was still within me. I had no clue where that train track  
led, where it would take me if I were to ride the locomotive, and yet I  
just wanted to do it. I remained where I was, on the platform near the  
edge, and I became certain that somehow the locomotive would return.

After what felt like an hour of waiting, listening and looking out for  
that locomotive, I heard the sound of a train approaching, and I just  
knew it was the same one. It arrived, slowly rolling into the room, and  
this time, I ran alongside it near it's rear, and I jumped the railing!  
I was now on the locomotive!

I was bewildered at my own actions. Never did I think that I would be  
bold enough to actually climb aboard the locomotive. I crouched where I  
was standing, so that the conductor would be less likely to see me. Out  
of the room it went, and it emerged into a beautiful green countryside.  
This was also impossible, as this was the middle of a city, and there  
was no countryside for miles around. Not to mention we were below  
ground level.

As the locomotive drew away from the room, it began to speed up. I  
could feel the cool air flowing through my hair. It still wasn't going  
very fast. The countryside gave way to a forest, which dipped down into  
a valley. It was already a few hours of travel and we had not returned  
to the room.

Despite the natural surroundings, I noticed that I did not see any  
wildlife. No animals walked the land nor were there birds flying in the  
air. It was still beautiful, and as the locomotive climbed out of the  
valley, the forest broke, and there were plains that went as far as the  
eye could see.

Then it approached a bridge. It was a wooden bridge, narrow and  
fragile. Below the bridge ran a large docile river. I got a bit queasy  
as the train rolled over the bridge. I tried not to look down at the  
river far below. The locomotive had slowed down to cross the bridge,  
but it felt like forever till it reached the other side.

Beyond the bridge, there were more plains, then a forest or two,  
followed by a prairie. I could tell that at least two days had passed,  
as I went from crouching to sitting on the catwalk, and my butt had  
gotten sore from sitting on the hard metal surface. Finally, the  
locomotive eased its way into a dark entrance, to arrive in the dimly  
lit room I started my trip from.

Now at this point it would have probably been wise to jump off the  
train, leave the cavernous room and be on my way. But something made me  
want nothing more than to do the run again. So I stayed aboard as the  
locomotive crawled from one side of the room to the other. It left the  
room, sped up, and I was on my way once again.

As strange as it was that I could not resist riding this locomotive, I  
continued to ride it through the same run, again and again, passing  
through the beautiful forests, valleys and vast plains, the nervous  
bridge over the calm river, and the prairie, and finally more forests.  
Stranger still, I began to creep forward along the catwalk, a little bit  
at a time, toward the cab.

I don't know what got into me, but as weeks passed by, I not only  
remained on the locomotive, but I began to feel like I should drive it.  
I finally got to the cab one day, and as quick as I could move, I dived  
into the cab and got into a fist fight with the conductor and his  
assistant. I had become so intent on driving the locomotive, that I  
fought viciously and threw the assistant out of the cab, and then, after  
a brutal fight, the conductor went out the side too!

I was now driving the locomotive. I never drove anything other than a  
car before, yet I was all at once familiar with the controls. And I had  
been round the way so many times that I just sort of knew how fast to  
go, and when to slow down. I knew the route. And driving the  
locomotive felt strangely comforting. I felt like I could do it  
forever.

The only thing I kept track of was time. I had no doubts about that. I  
had been driving the locomotive for two thousand and five hundred years.  
I did not need to eat, nor did I need to sleep or use the washroom. I  
just drove. And drove. And drove.

I met my first assistant when I was pulling into the station (I now  
called that giant room the station). He ran up and jumped on the  
catwalk just as I had done over two millennia ago. I was a bit worried  
that he would kick me out, just as I had when my journey began. But he  
was not aggressive at all, and in a few days he worked his way up the  
catwalk to the cab, and greeted me pleasantly.

I didn't really need an assistant, but he shared the same mysterious  
passion for operating the locomotive as I had. I quickly showed him the  
controls, and I even let him drive it all by himself. He turned out to  
be a natural, just like me. We got along quite well, although we didn't  
talk much. We simply shared in the majestic beauty of the countryside  
that we were traveling through, round and round again. Sometimes we  
didn't speak to each other for an entire year.

Around five thousand years since I had began - and I was so sure of the  
time - we met our next and final crew. He boarded just the same way,  
with a running start, and made his way to the cab. His name was Frank,  
and he too shared that strange obsession for driving the locomotive. We  
took turns driving now, switching up every three weeks. It was utter  
joy.

Thousands of years passed, and somehow, none of us grew bored or tired  
of the run. Nothing changed about it, not even the seasons. It was  
always summer, the sky always blue, the trees always green. We pressed  
on without ever wondering how long this would keep up. Frank in  
particular seemed to be in a state of Bliss constantly, and he of course  
was especially happy when it was his turn to take control.

Then one day, just a little over thirty-thousand years, we all gave it  
up. Maybe it was the sense of nervousness over crossing the wooden  
bridge, or the river far below. Maybe it was that I had seen the plains  
reach out to the horizon too many times. Maybe the forest valley was  
too green. Whatever it was, we all calmly reached a decision to leave  
the locomotive.

That final run was still as beautiful as the other millions of times we  
had rode it. It was almost sad when we got to the station and jumped  
off. We all had this strange sense that the train needed to keep going  
after we left. And sure enough, it did. We could even hear it speed up  
as it left the station, all on its own.

You would think it would have bothered us that we spent tens of  
thousands of years driving a locomotive that could drive itself, but we  
were not bothered in the slightest. On the contrary, we gave each other  
a look that showed we were happy that it was carrying on its merry way.  
We walked to that old door which was the only other feature in the dim  
concrete room, aside from the train track running through it. I opened  
the door for my assistant, and for Frank.

Out we walked into the hallway, which was now different, though I  
couldn't put my finger on it. It was just somehow different. A man  
walking down the hallway saw the three of us, and asked what we were  
doing there. I told him that I was there to tell a manager about the  
dead man in the stairwell, and he gave me a look. He told us to come  
with him, and he walked to another room that said "Office" in it. He  
went inside and picked up a phone from the desk. I couldn't hear what  
he was saying.

We were asked to wait, and after about half an hour, we were greeted by  
a man and a woman in suits, and they brought us upstairs to a small room  
with a bare table and some chairs. The suits sat across from us three.  
They told us that they were with the government and that we had been  
missing for twelve years. Well we were sure that we had been gone  
for thousands, but none of us piped up because we were pretty sure they  
would think we were crazy. We also didn't tell them where we were or  
what we had been doing.

Sensing our reluctance to answer questions, they finished off by telling  
us that we were no longer declared dead, as we had been over the past  
twelve years. They would contact our relatives and inform them that we  
were returning home. With that they let us out of the room, and we were  
on our own.

We talked briefly about our fun time driving the locomotive, and none of  
us were the least bit concerned that we had lost twelve years in the  
real world. After all, we hadn't seemed to age a bit, and we looked  
exactly like we looked before we "went missing," the suits had told us.

Then, Frank looked down at the floor. Me and my former assistant both  
saw it at once, and we were suddenly worried. Frank looked distant, and  
he told us that he was thinking of going back to the locomotive. Now  
that the appeal had worn of for both of us, we didn't think he should  
put any more time into driving it. But Frank was not going to change  
his mind. He turned and went down the stairs.

We followed him down, and continued to advise him not to go, but he  
seemed to still long for the blissful state that we all had been in for  
thousands of years in the hidden world. As Frank opened that mysterious  
door with the "Hidden" sign on it, we both said in unison that he had  
done his part. He still wouldn't listen. Frank wanted to continue his  
journey on the train and that was it. We watched through the open door  
as Frank walked the long walk to the edge of the platform, and just in  
time, as the locomotive had arrived and was rolling along. The last we  
ever saw of Frank was when he climbed onto the locomotive and rode it  
out of the room.

We closed the door, and went our separate ways. I came back a few days  
later, to see if I could see Frank. But when I got down to the basement  
hallway, the hidden door was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/)  
>  This work is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/).


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